Plowing the Furrow
by arctichamster
Summary: In which House makes good on his threat. **NOTE: This is a slash piece. It is rated M for a reason.** *Have done a small amount of rework. Nothing major. No reason.*
1. Chapter 1

M: Language, M/M sexual situations  
House/J. Wilson

Summary: In which House makes good on his threat.

 **A/N1: Another one of those lines that stuck in my brain and nagged at me until I did something about it. **NOTE: This is a slash piece. It is rated M for a reason.** If that's not your thing, I suggest you read no further.**

 **A/N2: Takes place during Better Half S8x09. All credit for lines culled from this episode go to Kath Lingenfelter. I'm just borrowing them.**

 **Canonical references:  
** **Daddy's Boy S2x05  
** **Spin S2x08  
** **Games S4x09  
** **Frozen S4x11  
** **Don't Ever Change S4x12  
** **Dying Changes Everything S5x01  
** **Birthmarks S5x04  
** **Moving On S7x23  
** **Twenty Vicodin S8x01  
** **Transplant S8x02  
** **Better Half S8x09**

 **A/N3: Standard Disclaimer. Not mine. I'm just filling in some blanks here and there. That force of nature known as Gregory House, created by Shore on paper and Laurie on screen will never be replicated and never be forgotten. My deepest thanks to them both. Extra kudos to the entire [H] writing staff, without whom we would never have these great throwaway lines and scenes to chew on and expound upon.**

 **A/N4: My undying appreciation to HOUSEocdfan, Visitkarte, and Stathies for the beta read and to BlossomYoung42 for the cleanup and edit. To my small circle of Booble friends, I love you guys. I don't tell you often enough. You help keep me sane. Well, you and the havoc we wreak on a certain TL every so often.**

 **A/N5: Comments and reviews gratefully accepted if you see fit to do so. All mistakes are my own. It was ever thus.**

* * *

Winter 2011  
Princeton, New Jersey

"We really gotta get you laid. If I have to plow that furrow myself, so be it," Dr. Gregory House remarked offhandedly to his best friend, Dr. James Wilson, in response to Wilson's comment that close to 1 percent of the population identifies as asexual. They were sharing yet another meal in the cafeteria at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, House reading Japanese manga (in Japanese) while Wilson perused an article on sexuality in a psychiatric journal. They were discussing Wilson's latest clinic patient, an asexual woman who was happily married to an asexual man.

Wilson mentally rolled his eyes at what was just the latest in a long line of innuendos that had passed between them over the course of their 20 year friendship. It didn't mean anything. It never did, but that didn't mean the suggestion didn't make Wilson feel a bit funny...good...deep inside. He wasn't gay, despite some of the pranks he and House had pulled on each other over the years. He'd simply never given it any thought. He just knew that of all the marriages and relationships he'd been in since he and House became friends, House was the one constant in his life whether Wilson wanted him to be or not.

Wilson reflected back to when he first began dating Dr. Amber Volakis 4 years before, the twinge in his heart reminding him how much he still missed her. She had been one of House's candidates to be a member of his new fellowship team and the last of the candidates to be cut. Wilson had found himself instantly drawn to her. Amber was the complete opposite of any woman he had ever been with: Tall, self-assured, independent, intelligent, driven - all of the qualities he had long admired in his best friend. He looked across the table as House proposed a wager on his being able to find a medical reason why Wilson's patient didn't want to have sex. Taking in the self-cut greying brown hair that was finally starting to grow out, the lines that had been etched into House's perpetually unshaven face during his year in prison for driving his car into the living room of his former girlfriend and boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, and then disappearing for 3 months. _Not to mention breaking my arm in the process. Asshole._ House's eyes, incredibly blue, the ones that spoke untold volumes about what was going on inside that brilliant mind of his if you knew what to look for - even as House would tell you that he was fine when quite obviously he wasn't. House would say that he wasn't terribly good looking. Wilson would beg to differ. He was starting to get that good kind of funny feeling again.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm letting you anywhere near my patient."

"Fine. I won't go near her. Just give me her file and any blood samples you have left over."

That said, House stuck his hand across the table for Wilson to shake and seal the $100 bet. Wilson eyed his friend suspiciously, knowing full well that House could find the smallest of loopholes and would waste no time exploiting them just to win.

"No contact whatsoever. You talk to her, the bet is void."

House looked Wilson squarely in the eye. "No contact. Plays to my strengths anyway."

Satisfied that he had set the rules so House got the kind of puzzle he thrived on while still giving himself a decent chance to actually win the bet, Wilson returned House's direct gaze with one of his own and reached out to shake House's hand, sealing the bet. Warmth crept into Wilson's body at the contact, and for a brief moment he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away before doing just that and returning to his food and the journal article.


	2. Chapter 2

House leaned back into the corner of his couch, glass of scotch in hand and his crossed feet propped up on the coffee table. He idly flipped through channels on the TV late into the night, nothing holding his interest for more than a few seconds as his brain continued chewing on what he'd said to Wilson earlier in the day. _Christ, I practically propositioned my best friend - where the fuck did_ that _come from?!_ It certainly wasn't the first time he'd thrown some sort of suggestive comment or another Wilson's way over the years, but for the first time it felt like more than just words. Not that it bothered him. House could give a rat's ass what anyone thought about anything he said or did. He was open-minded enough to believe that if everything in the universe lined up just right anything could (and probably would) happen between any two people, and while he had never actually had sex with another man before there had been a couple drunken nights of revelry in college where it had been a very real possibility. _And then there was the night Wilson and I shared a hooker._ She had been very...creative...with their body parts.

 _If I have to plow that furrow myself, so be it.'_ The words echoed in House's mind. _But would I really?_ It's not that he didn't find Wilson handsome. Wilson had always had those boyish good looks, and middle age hadn't done much to change that. The thick shock of dark brown hair showed very few signs of grey and House knew that he himself was the likely cause of a lot of those stress lines around Wilson's deep brown eyes. But it was Wilson's infectious grin that could ease even the lowest moments of House's life, if only for just a little while. Wilson made him laugh, something not a whole lot of people were able to do anymore. They were closer than friends, closer than brothers. There were times when they were so in sync with each other that people joked they were like an old married couple.

There were also times when House had pushed Wilson, pushed their friendship so hard and so far that Wilson wanted nothing more to do with him, would only speak to him in the most brusque and noncommittal tones and only if absolutely necessary. Those were the toughest times, the times when House was at his lowest, certain that he had fucked up the most enduring friendship he'd ever had so badly as to be unsalvageable. And still Wilson came back. He always came back. Even after Amber died and Wilson quit the hospital, leaving Princeton to start over somewhere else, he still came back. _Granted,_ House thought with a wan smile, _he only agreed to come back because my mom called him when Dad died. But still. He came back. And he stayed._

The scotch glass emptied, House set it on the coffee table. He took up his cane and limped into the bedroom, resigned to yet another long night of troubled sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next night saw House and Wilson claiming their usual spots on the couch in House's apartment, pizza and beer at the ready and a night of back-to-back-to-back Monster Truck rallies about to begin. House had been looking forward to this all week. He had barely seen Wilson, between his own early-onset Alzheimer's patient and trying to win the bet on Asexual Girl. House had missed these evenings with his best friend while he had been in prison and had thought about them often as a way to allow his mind to escape the confines of his cell.

Wilson settled back into the middle of the couch, more comfortable there in House's apartment than almost anywhere else. He would never admit to House how much he'd missed these evenings, even though it meant having to pretend to enjoy watching Monster Trucks while House acted like an overexcited 8 year old. It was still time well spent with his best friend in comfortable camaraderie. He passed a slice of pizza on a paper plate over to House, taking a bottle of beer from him in return.

House relaxed into the well-worn corner of the couch that he usually occupied. As he supported his right thigh and crossed his feet on the coffee table, he felt the ankle monitor chafe, a constant reminder of the electronic tether that currently ruled his life. He refused to let it get In the way of getting the answers he needed for his diagnostic puzzles, which usually resulted in a ride back to the hospital from Princeton PD, much to the annoyance of his former fellow and current boss, Dr. Eric Foreman.

House and Wilson watched Monster Trucks deep into the night. The pizza and beer gone, they enjoyed the buzz and each other's company, talking about whatever happened to come to mind while House threw sarcasm bombs at any truck that wasn't Gravedigger. Stretching his long torso after a couple hours of sitting in one place, House's left arm came to rest on the back of the couch almost close enough to touch Wilson's shoulder. It wasn't a conscious move, just something he did to keep his body from getting stiff.

Wilson eventually fell asleep where he sat, his upper body toppling over until his head came to rest on House's chest. Mildly taken aback at the intimacy of the contact, House looked down at Wilson, an odd but not unwelcome warmth making its way into his body. House was effectively trapped in place in a rather awkward position.

"Wilson." House poked at Wilson's shoulder. " _Wilson._ " He said a bit louder as he poked at his friend's shoulder again.

Wilson settled in closer, snuggling into House's body and draping his left arm across House's abdomen. House felt a fleeting moment of panic and a desperate need to get up and pace as his brain went into overdrive. Then he began to wonder if maybe the universe was realigning itself again...


	4. Chapter 4

House watched Wilson's sleeping form snuggled against him with an affection he had never really acknowledged, to himself or anyone else. Unbidden thoughts began to push their way into House's mind as he dropped his hand off the back of the couch onto Wilson's shoulder. Wilson sighed with contentment and snuggled even closer, wedging House firmly into his corner of the couch.

They stayed that way until House could no longer ignore the pressure in his bladder and the throbbing pain in his thigh. It took some time, but he was finally able to get himself out from under Wilson without waking him. Grabbing his cane, House limped heavily to the bathroom, where he relieved himself and took two Vicodin from the extra bottle on the sink. Supporting most of his weight on either side of the basin, he took a long look at himself in the mirror, wondering for the umpteenth time in their relationship just how far he was willing to push things with Wilson without destroying everything. Sighing at his image, House took his cane and slowly made his way back down the hall.

* * *

Wilson woke up wondering where the past few hours had gone. He didn't remember falling asleep as he moved to sit up, realizing that the apartment was quiet save for the low sounds of an infomercial on the late night local channel. He got up and wandered into the bathroom to empty his bladder, then slid open the pocket door leading to the bedroom to see if House had simply gone to bed. Finding the bedroom empty, Wilson cut through to the other door and back into the hall only to walk right into House from the opposite direction. In their mutual surprise, Wilson got tangled up with House's cane. House lost his balance and fell against the wall, inadvertently pulling Wilson against him.

They stood that way for a long moment, faces mere centimeters apart, trying to get their stability back while at the same time trying to understand what seemed to be shifting between them. Neither man seemed to be in much of a hurry to move and in that moment House felt the universe click ever closer into place. He slowly closed the gap between them, searching Wilson's eyes for any sign that what he was doing was wrong.

And then their lips were touching. Feeling. Tasting. Savoring. Wilson held onto House's shirt like a drowning man as his legs began to give way, which caused House to grab Wilson around the waist so they wouldn't fall to the floor. This move, which too late registered in House's brain, brought their groins into direct contact. Gasping at the sensation they pulled their faces apart, eyes questioning, searching for answers neither one had. They looked at each other, their eyes carrying on the whole of the conversation, but made no attempt to move beyond that.

"House…" Wilson started.

"Shut up," House said, leaning in to taste Wilson's mouth again. He tasted of pizza, beer, and something distinctly Wilson, which House found more than mildly pleasant. House flicked his tongue against Wilson's mouth, surprised when Wilson's mouth opened to accept him, their groins beginning to move against each other of their own volition.

* * *

 _Oh, shit. There goes his leg,_ was Wilson's first thought when he stumbled into House in the hallway. Then there was nothing but that familiar warmth coursing through his body as they stood there against the wall. He could feel every thought and feeling he'd ever had being exposed under House's piercing blue eyes, their faces so close…

All that disappeared the instant Wilson felt House's lips against his. Tentatively at first, then with more assurance, House tasted Wilson's mouth until Wilson felt like his legs wouldn't support him anymore. He grabbed the closest thing available - the front of House's shirt - and felt House's hands slide around his waist to keep him from pulling them both to the floor. Wilson gasped in shock and started to pull away as he felt their groins come together, seeing the same reaction on House's face. Neither of them moved and Wilson wondered if the moment had passed.

"House…" he started, his brain racing to catch up as he searched House's eyes for some clue.

"Shut up." House said as he leaned in to kiss Wilson again, and Wilson's mind began to dissolve. House tasted of pizza and beer and scotch and...House, which was as much of a turn-on as any woman Wilson had ever been with. When House's tongue touched his lips he was lost in taste and sensation, their groins beginning to slowly move against each other.


	5. Chapter 5

The relentless pain in House's thigh from standing too long finally forced him to pull away from Wilson's mouth for a second time. Any need to breathe was purely incidental.

Wilson's brain cleared enough to recognize the pain in House's eyes, the set of his jaw, and knew they were going to have to move somewhere so that House could get off his leg. Before he could make the suggestion, House pushed Wilson away, righted himself on his cane and limped heavily into the bedroom.

"Bed," was all he said.

* * *

They undressed in silence, stripping down to their shorts before crawling under the covers. House was on his usual side of the bed, laying on his left side to keep the pressure off his right thigh while Wilson got in on the other side. They stared at each other until the awkward silence became louder than the lack of sound in the apartment.

"House…" Wilson tried again, breaking the silence. House was obviously in a lot of pain, and Wilson was concerned that if they took this any further House would barely be able to walk the next morning, even with the Vicodin.

"Shut. Up," House said, and leaned in as the last bit of the universe fell into alignment. This time there was no hesitation and no resistance. House pulled Wilson closer to bring their groins back into contact as he explored Wilson's mouth with his tongue. He took his time as they lost themselves in the taste and smell and sheer feeling that came from the newness of what they were doing.

Neither man knew exactly when it happened, but at some point the shorts fell by the wayside and there was nothing left between them.

Movement and friction from their cocks sliding against each other and their bodies only made them harder, as did the deep exploration of each other's mouths and the quiet moans such actions elicited.

House could feel the clear fluid leaking from the head of his cock coating his length as he slowly pumped his hips against Wilson's body. He groaned, stopping his movements from time to time just long enough to grind himself against Wilson's cock and body with the same slow pressure before beginning the stroking movements again.

Neither man's hands moved, each holding onto the other's hip just enough to stabilize and maintain the contact between them. The pressure and flex of their fingertips was the only discussion they had.

* * *

Wilson could feel himself growing harder by the moment as House set an almost painfully slow pace, their cocks rubbing against each other between their bodies. The fluid he could feel seeping from his own cock mixed with House's, creating an exquisite sensation Wilson had never felt before - not even with that hooker they'd shared so many years ago. He desperately wanted to move his hips harder, faster, against House's body as House did things to his mouth and was fast realizing that this was not his best friend's first time with a man. But House held him firmly in place with his right hand, forcing Wilson to keep up with the interminably slow pace.

House paused in the movement of his hips as he once again ground their groins together. Pulling back a bit further, he allowed his cock to slide just under Wilson's balls to the cleft between Wilson's legs, where he began the slow stroking motion all over again.

Wilson gasped at the loss of contact with House's cock and stilled as he felt its length slide along the underside of his balls, between his legs, the head pushing between his ass cheeks. He couldn't help but moan into House's mouth at the new sensation when House began to move his hips again, the fluid from House's cock lessening the friction with each stroke. House was fucking him without actually penetrating him, and as Wilson's hips began to move in time with House's the feeling of House's cock sliding along the underside of his balls while his own cock was being stroked between their bodies and his mouth was slowly being plundered by House's tongue was almost enough to make Wilson come right then and there.

* * *

House pulled his groin away from Wilson's again and felt Wilson's fingers tighten on his hip, trying to pull him closer. The fingers relaxed and Wilson all but whimpered around House's tongue as he felt House's cock slide along his own once again. The slow pace House insisted on maintaining both excited and frustrated Wilson. He tried to buck his hips in an effort to get House to change his momentum, but House merely tightened his grip on Wilson's hip as he pulled Wilson closer, sliding his cock against the length of Wilson's even more slowly than before, effectively squeezing them together with their bodies.

Wilson pulled his mouth away from House's, panting as he tried to breathe. House held him in place, feeling his cock twitch at the look of pure need on Wilson's face. He began to slowly grind his hips against Wilson again, watching Wilson's eyes slide shut as his body began to tremble. _So close…_

House continued to watch Wilson's face as he held them tightly together, making his movements small and deliberate and with as much contact as he could manage.

"House…" Wilson moaned, gripping House's hip like his life depended on it.

"Now." House said in a ragged voice, silencing Wilson with his mouth. He slid his right arm around Wilson's lower back to hold him still while continuing to move against him.

Wilson came undone then, his body reduced to twitches and tremors and involuntary movements as he came. He became the plunderer, thrusting his tongue deep into House's mouth in time to his thrusting. The pure eroticism of the action took House by surprise, bringing on his own orgasm. He held himself tight against Wilson's body as his own cock twitched and spurted between them.


	6. Chapter 6

They stayed together unmoving as their bodies cooled and their heart rates returned to normal. House rolled onto his back and waited patiently for Wilson to begin processing what had just happened between them. He was relieved that Wilson hadn't run screaming from the bed in revulsion immediately afterwards. It certainly made things less awkward, for himself anyway. House didn't feel any differently toward Wilson, but he knew that Wilson was a much more emotional person and would tie himself into knots trying to figure out if there was some deeper meaning to the experience.

And so he waited.

* * *

Wilson lay on his side unmoving. He watched House roll over onto his back, his eyes closed, his face relaxed yet impassive. Wilson's brain struggled to make sense of things, wondering if their friendship was about to change forever. There were so many questions he wanted to ask.

And thus began the process.

* * *

House could feel Wilson's eyes boring into him, could practically hear the questions in Wilson's brain trying to get out. He opened one eye, turning his head slightly to read Wilson's face. His best friend was like an open book, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the endless questions visible in his eyes. House sighed.

"What?" he said gruffly.

Wilson flinched ever so slightly. House made a mental note to tone it down a notch and waited for Wilson to ask his questions.

"That was...where did you…?" Wilson was still speaking in incomplete sentences as his brain continued its struggle for rational thought.

House shrugged, turning his face back to the ceiling. He felt no need or desire to explain himself. It was what it was.

Wilson watched as House stared up at the ceiling, his facial expression remaining impassive as he shrugged. He waited, knowing that House was unlikely to expound on the shrug. Resigning himself to getting none of his questions answered, Wilson drifted to sleep as dawn began to lighten the sky.


	7. Chapter 7

House woke up late, having slept through his alarm. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, he knew by the silence in the apartment that Wilson had been gone for awhile. _I must have slept like a rock to not wake up during Wilson's morning routine,_ House thought, chuckling to himself. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, reflecting on the previous night's events and wondering if Wilson was going to be weird about it when he finally went into work. _Probably,_ he thought, answering his own question.

Eventually he rolled out of bed, wincing as he put pressure on his right leg. The fist-sized hole in his thigh looked more inflamed than usual and House knew he was going to have to spend some time in the bathtub in order to get the cramping down to manageable levels. Leaning heavily on his cane, he limped into the bathroom and relieved himself. He started the water running in the tub, as hot as he could possibly stand it. Downing a couple of Vicodin to start the day, House splashed water on his face and regarded his image in the mirror. _Yep. Same old face, just a bit more worse for wear,_ he thought, rubbing a hand over the heavy stubble along his jawline.

House turned to shut the water off before awkwardly climbing into the bathtub. It was never an easy process to begin with - the tub was far too short to comfortably fit his long legs - but having to keep his ankle monitor out of the water made the task all the more complicated. He could feel the pain in his thigh begin to ease almost immediately as soon as it was submerged and sighed audibly in relief. Leaning his head back against the wall, his right foot with its electronic leash balanced tenuously in the corner of the tub rim, House contemplated the day to come.

* * *

An hour later, House stepped out of the elevator and made his way down the hall to his office. He dumped his backpack behind the desk before wandering into the empty outer office, idly wondering what his team was up to as he hung up his coat and scarf. Heading back to the elevator, House detoured to stick his head into Wilson's office to make sure things hadn't changed between them. Not surprisingly, the office was empty.

He found Drs. Chi Park and Jessica Adams in the lab, running tests on the leftover samples Wilson had provided him for Asexual Girl. Park was mildly annoyed that their colleague, Dr. Robert Chase, wasn't in there with them, while Adams noted that the woman's hormone levels were normal and that she seemed to be perfectly healthy.

"What does it matter if she says she's asexual?" Adams wanted to know.

House reminded Adams that sex is a healthy thing and that orgasms oxygenate the brain. Adams and Park both tossed around alternative ideas, with House finding a reason to discount them out of hand. They continued the debate until Park happened to bring up her own sexual history.

"I've tapped over 30 guys and never wanted to see most of them again."

That statement stopped both House and Adams dead in their tracks. They stared at her in disbelief as she shrugged and continued, "I lived next to a Jewish frat."

House couldn't help but sarcastically note, "We are veering wildly off course. Please continue."

Adams continued to press House with her arguments in support of Wilson's patient's apparent asexuality until House had one of his moments, causing him to grab his cane and limp quickly from the lab.


	8. Chapter 8

A couple of hours later, after dealing with the fact that his Alzheimer's patient had managed to wander out of the hospital unnoticed by the nursing staff, House was in the clinic with Asexual Girl's asexual husband, explaining the battery of tests that he wanted to run. The man was understandably confused, having been led to believe that he was there for a free flu shot. When the knock on the Exam Room door came, as he knew it would, House was ready.

"Excuse me," House said to Asexual Girl's husband. "I have to deal with someone who's having a panic attack."

Opening the door revealed a very annoyed Wilson. House came out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

"I specifically said the bet was off if you contacted the patient."

"Exactly. You never said anything about the patient's husband."

"The deal was a medical reason why _she_ doesn't have sex."

Wilson was almost beside himself. House had managed to conjure up one of those microscopic loopholes from somewhere in that brain of his, and Wilson could practically see any chance of winning the bet slipping away. They argued briefly over the all-too familiar subject of House's twisted logic and lack of ethics.

"You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart," Wilson railed. "You're not even doing this out of medical curiosity."

House all but shrugged. "I thought I made it clear I'm doing it for the cash."

"Two people are happy and your natural impulse is to destroy it."

House scoffed. "How do you know she's happy? Did she tell you?"

Wilson shot back sarcastically, "No, chirping birds flew out of her butt carrying a banner."

* * *

After House had finished with Asexual Guy, Wilson caught up with him as he left the clinic.

"House, we need to talk."

"No we don"t," House said, quickly deflecting.

"House - "

"There's nothing to talk about." House cut Wilson off, effectively ending the conversation as he limped toward the elevator. Using the rubber tip of his cane to push the elevator's call button, House could feel Wilson next to him, staring holes into his brain. _Yeah, he's not acting weird at all._

The elevator door slid open and House got on, turning to push the button for the 4th floor. Wilson got in alongside him and made to start the conversation again.

"House. Seriously. We need to talk."

"Does it have anything to do with my patient?"

"No."

"Does it have anything to do with the bet?"

"No."

"Then we don't have anything to talk about."

They stood next to each other in stony silence as the elevator continued its journey to the 4th floor. Not another word was said when the door opened and House veered off down the corridor leading to his office.

* * *

House was mildly surprised to find that Foreman had commandeered his whiteboard, listing the patient's current symptoms and about to conduct his own differential with the team. Chase and Adams had found their missing patient hypothermic and without a heartbeat at a nearby sports field. House and Foreman spent several minutes debating whether symptoms the patient exhibited since his admission warranted being added to the list before House finally decided to start the patient on Interferon. He walked into his office as the team left, fully intending to spend a few minutes going over the lab results for Asexual Guy while he tried to work the angles on how to get Foreman to approve the early removal of his ankle monitor.

House's brain had other ideas, drifting back to Wilson, the previous night's events, and whether he would be able to get Wilson to understand that there really was no greater meaning to be read into what had happened between them. He leaned back in his chair, sighing. He knew that Wilson was not about to let this go until he'd had a chance to get his feelings out and to gauge House's reaction to those feelings.

Taking another look through Asexual Guy's lab results, House grinned to himself. Victory was within his grasp. He grabbed his cane and the file and headed off to Wilson's office. Opening the door, House stuck his head inside. Wilson was sitting at his desk, making notes in a patient's chart.

"You lose." House strolled into Wilson's office, tossing the chart at his best friend while explaining the results of the lab tests and coming to the conclusion that Asexual Guy had a tumor near his pituitary gland. Reviewing the chart, Wilson couldn't help but agree with House's diagnosis.

"I prefer to be paid in a single 100 dollar bill. Always wanted to use one to light a cigar."

Wilson was not nearly so jubilant. Not only had he just lost the bet _again_ , but it was like pulling teeth to get House to stay in one place long enough to have any sort of conversation about where their friendship stood.

"You always do this. You...meddle, and force me into impossible situations." Wilson could feel himself getting more annoyed by the second.

House rolled his eyes. "You knew the second you told me about this case that I'd get involved. You wanted me involved. Because no matter how much you wanted to believe in this chaste romance, you didn't buy it either."

Wilson had no response to that. He hated that House knew him as well as he did sometimes. It drove him to distraction how often House was right, even when he was just pulling something insane out of his ass. And then Wilson's mind drifted to the previous night, reminding him that they still hadn't talked about what it meant. He looked over at House, who had planted himself on the sofa and was absently playing with his cane. Wilson watched him for a long moment from behind his desk, could practically feel the waves of discomfort beginning to emanate from his friend as the silence began to feel awkward.

"House, we really need to talk about this."

House shot a glare towards Wilson. "No. We really don't," he snapped. "Yes. It happened. We had sex. No, it doesn't change anything between us. There really is no deeper meaning than that, so stop trying to find one."

Wilson hadn't expected House to get so defensive so quickly and was taken aback by his response. He'd expected House to make a joke or some sarcastic remark like he always did. He couldn't help but wonder what else was going on, whether it was his patient or the ankle monitor or Foreman or any number of other things that seemed to be churning around his best friend's mind at any given time. House's brain was never truly calm unless he was at the piano, something Wilson had rarely seen since House's release from prison.

House defiantly held his glare, daring Wilson to push back. Wilson held his own gaze steady for several long seconds before he'd had enough. House was going to be an ass about this, and that was enough to convince Wilson that nothing really had changed between them.

"Fine. Are we done?" Wilson said with an edge to his voice, turning his attention back to the notes in his patient's chart and ignoring House completely, effectively dismissing him. He knew that that was the best way to shut down House's attitude, and it worked. House stared at Wilson for a few more seconds, then limped his way out of Wilson's office.


	9. Chapter 9

House was in his office, making a few notes in his Alzheimer patient's chart, when Foreman came through the door looking annoyed. House was not surprised. Foreman frequently had that look on his face when it came to dealing with House, much as Cuddy used to when she was hospital administrator and Dean of Medicine. And much as House would frequently refer to his fellows (both current and former) as idiots and morons, the truth of the matter is that he never would have hired them to begin with (with the exception of Chase) if they hadn't shown that they would be up to his own rigorous standards and stood up to him if they thought he was wrong. He watched Foreman warily as Foreman approached his desk with a single sheet of paper in hand.

"You played me," Foreman started. "This whole thing was about your ankle monitor. You weren't trying to undermine my confidence, you were trying to inflate it. You manufactured conflict with me so you could let me win. You knew it was encephalitis but you waited for me to say it because then with my ego boosted you thought I'd be in the mood to take off your monitor. Because I think I can control you."

House watched Foreman with a decided non-reaction at Foreman's little tirade. Inside, however, he was mildly amused at how Foreman must have been chewing on this for quite some time to come to his office in such a state. House took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

"You're right. Take off my monitor. See, the beauty of the plan is that if it works, you think you can control me. But if it fails, then you will actually have proven that you can control me. It's pretty genius." Supporting his leg, House propped his right foot on the corner of his desk, exposing the subject of the discussion. "These are your training wheels. If you think you're up to this job, it's time to lose them."

Foreman looked House in the eye, glanced down at the ankle monitor, then the petition he still held in his hand. Very deliberately he tore the sheet of paper in half, then into quarters, tossing the pieces into the wastebasket next to House's desk. House had not taken this into consideration when formulating his plan.

"The second half of my plan might need work."

* * *

House watched Foreman walk out the door. Reaching for the large red and grey tennis ball on his desk, his brain automatically began the process of trying to find a new angle that might work in his effort to get rid of the ankle monitor ahead of schedule. House rolled the ball around in his hands, deep in thought, for several minutes before his brain shifted gears and he once again found himself thinking about Wilson, wondering how far those boundaries could be pushed. He knew that Wilson was still trying to process what had happened between them and wanted to have a rational, reasonable discussion about what it meant, but House had no interest in psychoanalyzing it to death. Still stinging a bit from his interaction with Foreman and feeling the need to be anywhere but in his office, House grabbed his jacket and cane and headed for the elevator.

Wilson glanced at his watch and gathered up the lab results on Asexual Guy. As he left his office, he saw House push the call button for the elevator. He still had questions about what had happened between them, and was determined to get some answers.

They entered the elevator together, the tension palpable. As the elevator began its descent to the 1st floor, Wilson steeled his resolve.

"House…"

House turned on him then, backing Wilson into the side wall and pinning him there, their faces once again mere centimeters apart. Wilson was taken aback by the suddenness of the move and nervously licked his lips. At that moment he wasn't sure if House was going to hit him or kiss him.

"Is this what you want?" House growled, pressing his groin into Wilson's and moving his hips in that interminably slow way that drove Wilson to distraction and rendered him speechless, blue eyes burning holes into Wilson's brain. "What part of 'Stop trying to find a deeper meaning' do you not understand? It is what it is. Leave it alone. We're fine."

The elevator signaled its arrival at the 1st floor with a ding. The door opened and Wilson was alone, House having turned and walked away without another word, satisfied that he had finally made his point.


	10. Chapter 10

Wilson met with Asexual Guy and his wife in the clinic to discuss the lab results. Asexual Guy was amazed that Wilson even knew to look for a tumor. Wilson explained that it was Dr. House who had noticed the hormone levels in the man's blood and went to Wilson for an Oncology consult. _More like rubbed my face in it._ Asexual Girl was relieved to learn that there actually was a physical reason why her husband had no interest in sex, and insisted to her husband that he have the treatment done.

Her husband was not so sure, especially once Wilson explained that as the tumor shrank he would likely want to have sex. The news was overwhelming.

"You mean the treatment will make me want to have sex? What if I don't want the treatment?"

His wife was insistent. "You have a brain tumor, okay? You have to have the treatment."

Asexual Guy wasn't entirely convinced. "Okay, look - but I know who I am, okay? I'm not one of them."

Asexual Girl tried to reassure her husband. "Hey, look. We'll adjust, okay? We can go through this together."

Her husband looked at his wife askance. "You mean have sex? I can't make you do that."

Asexual Girl again tried to reassure her husband without seeming too eager. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

"It'll be terrible," her husband countered dejectedly.

Asexual Girl was undeterred. "It's actually pretty fun." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "From what I remember."

Asexual Guy looked at his wife, realization dawning. "But you said that - "

Asexual Girl interrupted him mid-sentence. "I know, I know. But I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. And I knew that meant making certain sacrifices. But…a girl has needs."

Asexual Guy stared at his wife as if seeing her for the first time. His whole world view had just been upended, and he was completely at a loss about what was going to happen next. Wilson stepped in, reassuring both of them that while things would be awkward and uncomfortable at first, eventually it would benefit their marriage and serve to make it stronger. Asexual Guy took some extra convincing, but by the time Wilson was finished counseling them both husband and wife seemed considerably more comfortable about the next phase of their marriage.


	11. Chapter 11

Foreman was in his office, meeting with a couple who were considering making a sizable donation to the hospital. He was only half listening to the man as the man arrogantly insisted on seeing Foreman's 5-year plan due to the recent change in hospital management. There was something about the flowers in Foreman's office that nagged at him, something that he couldn't quite place. Suddenly it hit him. The flowers had been his office for at least a week and still looked fresh. Foreman's epiphany had him quickly excusing himself from the meeting with an urgent need to find House.

* * *

Foreman found him in the lab, looking at slides of blood smears while he tried to figure out what was killing his Alzheimer's patient.

"It's Reyes Syndrome," Foreman announced. "Patient had a sore throat a few weeks ago before he was admitted."

House looked up at Foreman from his seat at the microscope. "Reyes in adults is a reach."

"Not if he took aspirin."

House was unconvinced. "Aspirin in adults is a reach. Especially in a house with locked medicine cabinets."

Foreman pressed on. "It wasn't in a medicine cabinet. Wife used to run a floral company, still does a few orders from home. She uses crushed aspirin in the water to make the flowers last longer."

House considered this. It fit. "So the husband has a sore throat, takes an aspirin without her knowing. Realizes he has a sore throat, takes an aspirin. Realizes he's got a sore throat...stop me whenever you like." He thought for a moment. "Have Chase start him on steroids."

"I already did."

This mildly surprised House. "Then why are you telling me?"

Foreman looked evenly at House. "Because I wanted you to hear it from me." He turned and walked out of the lab, leaving House to reflect on their discussion.


	12. Chapter 12

House was sitting on the couch in Wilson's office, again absently playing with his cane as he often did when his brain wouldn't let go of something. This is how Wilson found him when he finally returned to his office, but whatever tension there had been earlier in the day was gone.

Wilson decided that the best thing to do was to open with settling the bet. His having to pay House the $100 was a sure way to put his friend in a better frame of mind before tackling the more difficult issue at hand.

"MRI confirmed macro prolactinoma. He's doing the treatment."

House looked up at Wilson. "And the wife?"

Wilson pulled out his wallet and handed over a $100 bill. House took the money with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Come on. You saved a man's life. Course corrected two people's wildly screwed up world views. Not bad for a day's work."

Wilson sat down next to House. "What about our wildly screwed up world views?"

House considered this for a moment. "Our world views aren't screwed up. Not even remotely. We don't play by the same rules. Everybody knows that."

Wilson had to admit House had a point. House handed Wilson a cigar.

"I think they were happy, even if it was based on lies."

House shrugged. "What relationship isn't? Everybody lies. The whole of human society would collapse if everyone told the truth."

Wilson gestured at themselves. "And us? Considering we've never had the usual social contract, what happened between us really doesn't change anything, does it?"

House lit his cigar with the bank note. "Nope. It happens. It's an imperfect world." He passed the burning money over to Wilson, who used it to light his own cigar.

The two men leaned back into the sofa, mirroring each other as they crossed their feet on the coffee table and taking a moment to simply enjoy the experience.

House looked over at Wilson. "Well?"

Wilson had to admit there was something to be said about their illicit indulgence.

"Disgustingly satisfying."

House nodded with approval. He was about to say something else, something pithy that seemed to fit the occasion, when the door to Wilson's office unexpectedly opened and a workman carrying a toolbox walked in. House quickly tried to wave away the cigar smoke and pointed at Wilson.

"He said it was okay."

The workman looked at his clipboard, then back at the two guilty-looking men.

"Is one of you Dr. House?"

House looked over at Wilson. "You've seen _Sparticus_ , right?"

The workman referred to his clipboard again. "I've got an order here to deactivate and remove his ankle monitor."

* * *

When the workman left, House and Wilson went back to enjoying their cigars, House chattering animatedly about everything he was going to do now that he was finally free of his electronic leash. All at once he stopped and put out his cigar, grabbing his cane and limping out of the office, leaving Wilson with a quizzical look but comfortable with the fact that all was right with the world again.

* * *

House strode into Foreman's office unannounced, as he usually did, and planted himself in front of Foreman's desk. Foreman was deep into administrative paperwork, but didn't have to look up to know who was there.

"Bikes go faster without training wheels. Now get out. I have work to do."

House briefly considered a sarcastically triumphant remark. Instead, he reached out to the pencil cup on Foreman's desk and knocked it over.

"Whoops," House said over his shoulder as he turned and limped out, feeling lighter and freer than he had in over a year, and leaving Foreman mildly amused as he regarded the mess. _Some things never change_ , Foreman thought, returning to his paperwork.


End file.
